I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.

I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).

The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.

The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.